Where I’m From…

I am not from castles and acres of land that shine green with prosperity.
I am not from a fairytale household with the king, queen, and princess living happily ever after.
I am not from the delicate and peaceful.

I am from petite houses and apartments on the North Side--
no lawn, but streets and sirens.
I am from a separate household--
no happy marriage, but two UWM students and one happy accident.
I am from mess and chaos--
no quiet, but yelling and fights.
“She needs to be away from you!” “Get out of my house!” “Have a nice life!”

I am not from lax parents and silent siblings--
more like dedicated and determined and deafening.
I am not from one school,
but six or seven.
I am not from expected moments,
impulsive, improvised, and instantaneous.

I am from nontraditional,
black father, white mother, and severed homes.
I am from thick, wavy hair that runs down my back, never tamed,
from 12 piercings and hair dye and Mom saying, “You’ve done enough, it’s time to stop.”
I am from the scarring, surprising, and sweet memories of childhood
red dog collars with bone shaped tags, crinkled photographs circa 1990’s and a golden cat and from toys without shine.

I am not from castles and acres of land that shine green with prosperity.
I am not from a fairytale household with the king, queen, and princess living happily ever after.
I am not from the delicate and peaceful.